


He Likes Queen

by Masterless



Series: What I Wish Would Happen [3]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: A little bit of happy Eliott, Break Up, Brian May - Freeform, F/M, Freddie Mercury - Freeform, Hedgehog - Freeform, Lucas isn't mentioned by name, M/M, Mad Elliot, Queen - Freeform, Sad Eliott, raccoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterless/pseuds/Masterless
Summary: Eliott picked up his sketch pad and his pencils, and thought for a moment before he smiled and drew. It was a hedgehog, what else would it have been, singing and dancing to the music he was listening to. The pictures kept coming, until they filled up an entire page, and he flipped to the next, chuckling to himself as he drew a small raccoon, playing the piano. They danced together on the page, head banging and laughing, quills and masks and paws. A hedgehog dressed as Freddie Mercury, a raccoon with Brian May’s hair.





	He Likes Queen

Eliott was sitting in his living room staring at the piano in the corner of the room. The silence in the air was oppressive, a weight on his chest making it difficult to breathe. He could hear the memory of those thin, beautiful fingers speeding across the keys, a gentle reminder of everything that he had fucked up. When it got too much and his eyes filled with tears, Eliott sprang to his feet and rushed to his records, a frantic energy buzzing in his skin. He riffled through them, not feeling some and completely detesting the others. What was wrong with him? He loved dubstep, but all of his vinyls made him want to throw something, until he got to the very last jacket, one that he hadn’t even opened.

He said he liked the old rock and roll.

Gently pulling the plastic wrap from the record, Eliott opened his record player and carefully slotted in the disk, setting the needle down gently and turning it on. He sat back down as the first lyrics filled the air, and Eliott smiled.

_ Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? _

A stray tear rolled down his cheek, and he brushed it away. His nervous energy hadn’t gone away, but now he felt like it was more focused. Eliott picked up his sketch pad and his pencils, and thought for a moment before he smiled and drew. It was a hedgehog, what else would it have been, singing and dancing to the music he was listening to.

_ Goodbye everybody, I’ve got to go. Got to leave you all behind and face the truth. _

The pictures kept coming, until they filled up an entire page, and he flipped to the next, chuckling to himself as he drew a small raccoon, playing the piano.

_ I see a little silhouetto of a man. Scaramouch, Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango? _

They danced together on the page, head banging and laughing, quills and masks and paws. A hedgehog dressed as Freddie Mercury, a raccoon with Brian May’s hair.

_ So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye? So you think you can love me and leave me to die? _

A hedgehog, alone in the corner of the page, sitting and crying. A single tear hit the page as the first beat of the next song filled the room.

_ Oh, let's go! _

The next page, and the hedgehog is still crying, all alone it the corner, but the raccoon is, too, down the page, looking up.

_ There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man. _

Eliott tore the page from the notebook and let it flutter to the floor, but the hedgehog wouldn’t smile. It screamed and it threw things across the page, graphite punches aimed the the raccoon but never landed.  _   
_ _ And bring him to the ground. _

Another page, another hedgehog, sobbing into its paws, all alone in its bed. _   
_ _ You can beat him, you can cheat him. _

The sound of tearing paper filled the air as he pulled another page from his sketchbook.  _   
_ _ You can treat him bad and leave him when he's down. _

Eliott drew a face this time, his face, tear stained and accusing, and Eliott threw the sketchbook across the room, screaming. He watched it bounce off the piano, a discordant sound of keys joining the mix of 70s rock in the air.

_ Can anybody find me somebody to love? _

He heard the door open, but he didn’t care. He curled up on his sofa, tucking his legs to his chest and covering his face with his arms, clutching his hair in shaking hands. Sob after sob ripped itself from his throat, his whole body quaking, hot tears streaming down his face. Soft footsteps made their way over to him, and cold hands settled over his arms.

“Eliott?” Lucille asked. “No, no, shhh. Eliott, what’s wrong?”

But how could he tell her? How could he tell her that the only person he wanted to be with wasn’t her? Was someone else? How could he tell her than it wasn’t a phase, that it wasn’t an episode, that his heart ached for this other person so badly that even his favourite music couldn’t make him feel better? That the only person in the whole world that he wanted to be with probably hated him?

“Eliott?” She was quiet, but he heard her picking up the scrapped pieces of paper. She laughed, bright and bubbly, making his heart sink even lower. “A new character? Eliott, it’s cute! A porcupine?”

“A hedgehog,” he whispered through the tears. “He’s a hedgehog.”

“Oh.” She chuckled again. “I love him.”

The music filled the air when she went quiet, picking up each piece of paper. He slowly opened his bleary eyes and watched her get closer and closer to the piano, towards his thrown sketchbook. She bent, picking it up, and he saw her freeze.

_ It’s a kind of magic _ .

She stared at the picture, so out of style for him, so realistic that she almost didn’t believe he’d drawn it, but who else would have? Who else would have drawn him?

_ One dream, one soul, one prize, one goal. One golden glance of what should be. _

“It’s him, isn’t it.” She didn’t even frame it as a question. “The hedgehog.”

“Oui.” His voice was low, catching in his throat.

She dropped all of the pages, his sketchbook, back onto the floor and turned to him. “You really think that this is a good idea? To let yourself get obsessed with this boy? Just think about last year. Just think about the other boy. Where did it get you?” She paused, as if waiting for an answer. “It got you into a hospital, Eliott! A hospital! Do you remember that you tried to kill yourself? That you took all your meds and drank an entire bottle of whiskey?”

_ Pressure pushing down on me. Pressing down on you, no man ask for. _

“Eliott, you’re doing it again!” She turned to the record played, scowling. “You don’t even like Queen!” She laughed, angry and half mad. “He does, though, doesn’t he?”

_ It's the terror of knowing what the world is about. Watching some good friends screaming, "Let me ou- _

Lucille pulled the record from the needle, sending a scratching silence cascading through the flat. She glared at him. “You never learn, do you?” She reached back and threw the record into the hall.

Eliott leapt from the sofa, trying to catch it while knowing he wasn’t quick enough. It shattered on the ground, shards flying up and away. He covered his face, up, before looking back at Lucille, who’d gone pale but her face was still set in a furious glare.

“Lucille?” Eliott whispered.

“You need to snap out of it, Eliott.” She looked down to the broken record. “He’s not good for you, and you don’t love him. It’s just another episode.”

Eliott felt the anger bubbling in his chest. “Just an episode?” His voice was shaking, and a fresh wave of hot tears ran down his cheeks. “Just an episode? Lucille, not everything is an episode! I can get mad and upset and I can fall in love without it being an episode!” He motioned to her. “Do you think that you were an episode? That my feelings for you were just a byproduct of my mania?”

“You were diagnosed after we go together,” she snapped. “You weren’t bipolar when we met.”

“I’ve been diagnosably bipolar since I was thirteen!” Eliott glared right back at her, his voice rising. “I’ve had manic episodes and depressive episodes since I was thirteen! I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen, long before I met you! I met you in the middle on a manic period, does that mean that nothing since then has been real? That nothing I’ve felt is real?”

She just stared at him, her jaw clenched.

“Tell me!”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Eliott! I’ve spent the last four years of my life with you, and you throw me away for some boy? For some boy?”

“You stopped loving me years ago,” Eliott snapped back. “Don’t pretend that this has been all roses and sunshine since we got together.”

“That doesn’t matter!” She was starting to cry now, and Eliott was shaken. It had been years since he’d seen her cry. “I gave you four years! I picked you up after every down, took care of you during your highs, I looked after you! I stopped you doing stupid stuff, I-”

“Manipulated every second of my life!” Eliott’s hands flew to his hair. “You told me what to do, what not to do, dismissed me, diminished me, I’m sick of it!”

“You know that this isn’t going to work!” She bent and picked up the sketchbook again, shoving his crying, angry face into his sight once more. “He won’t be able to handle you! He won’t love you! Why do you think you left him already? Because you know you’re just going to ruin him, like you’ve ruined me!”

“Ruined you?” Eliott dropped his hands, staring at her, and the flat filled with silence once again. “Ruined you?”

Lucille shook her head, already trying to backtrack in her head. “Eliott, I-”

“Get out!” He pointed towards the door. “Get out!”

“Let’s just talk about this, Eliott.”

“Get out!” He stomped towards her, grabbing her forearms, tight enough to move her but not enough to hurt her, and forced her through the door to the living room through the hallway, and pushed her at the door. She stumbled slightly but caught herself, unscathed. “Leave!”

Shaking her head, Lucille pulled her jacket from the coat rack and opened the door, but he caught hold of her sleeve before she got very far.

“Give me the key back,” Eliott said, holding his hand out.

He watched as she angrily pulled the key from her set, thrusting it into his hand. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No I won’t.”


End file.
